


Concrete Halls

by trinity_xyz



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Dream SMP characters - Freeform, How Do I Tag, Light Angst, Memories, Nostalgia, Not Beta Read, Pogtopia, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Wilbur Soot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29301888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinity_xyz/pseuds/trinity_xyz
Summary: Wilbur accidentally stumbles across Pogtopia's ruins and reminisces about his past.
Kudos: 10





	Concrete Halls

**Author's Note:**

> I've been seeing a lot of people on my timeline talking about how much they miss Pogtopia, and it inspired me to write this short oneshot. I wrote this entirely from memory so some aspects of Pogtopia may not be exact, but I tried my best. I also pictured Wilbur to be Alivebur and not Ghostbur here, even if that's not how things are in the lore right now. 
> 
> Abandoned Pogtopia reminds me a lot of the song "Concrete Halls" by C418, you should listen to it. Enjoy :)

Wilbur wandered aimlessly through the oak forest, kicking the grass around with his feet and grumbling about some minor inconvenience that had somehow ruined his day. He paid no means to the stray animals that littered the land, just wanting to get as far away from L’manberg’s ruins as he possibly could. He should be happy; his ultimate goal was complete. L’manberg was under a state of disrepair. The crater that had taken its place ensured that no one would ever call that piece of land their home ever again. 

So why wasn’t he happy? When he stared down into the crater, all he felt was emptiness. He was alone, his life’s work reduced to nothing. Wasn’t that what he wanted? As Wilbur moved out of the forest into a clearing, he tried to rid the thoughts from his mind. _What’s done is done_ , he reminded himself. There was no going back. 

Lost in thought, he barely noticed that the land he was passing was slowly getting more and more familiar to him. It itched a place deep in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. His legs took him forwards confidently, as if they knew the way through the forest better than he did. 

He stopped when he reached the bank of a thin river. The forest was oddly quiet now, and all the animals had seemingly disappeared from sight. As he was looking around, his eyes fell upon a heap of cobblestone and pink wool across the river. 

It all flooded back to him in the form of stark realization. Tommy. Tommy loved making cobblestone towers, didn’t he? Wilbur’s jaw slackened slightly as he studied the ruins. The tower had somehow been reduced to nearly half its size, but it was still recognizable. His body, like it was moving of its own volition, turned him slowly to the right. There, only metres in front of him, was an opening in the stone.  
He simply stared for what felt like minutes, squinting at it, trying to make up an excuse for himself to leave, willing the stone archway to disappear. But there was nothing. These days, he stayed holed up in an underground house with only his books to keep him company. There was nothing he needed to attend to.

Finally, Wilbur began to step forwards. Every step felt heavy, like it was taking each and every ounce of his strength to bring him through the stone. He paused before crossing the threshold, like doing so would prevent him from going back. He knew he could just leave; he knew that there was nothing stopping him from running, but he felt a tug of unplaceable emotion at the thought of returning to his former home once more. Now that he was here, he had to see it for himself. 

He stepped through, allowing his fingers to drift across the smooth stone of the archway. It whispered under his touch, cold and unyielding. The room was just like it was when he had last seen it. With the help of outdoor light, he could make out the chests in the darkness. He opened them, hoping to find some forgotten tokens from the past, but he was met with useless items, cobblestone and seeds. His hands lowered to brush across them before moving on. 

Before him was the spiral staircase leading down, into the ravine where he and Tommy had once made home, the exile and their plans of revolution spurring them on. Wilbur almost laughed aloud at the memory. How naïve was he, to think that he could have L’manberg again? To think that he could be at peace one day?

There was nothing more to see in the room, and Wilbur felt as if he was stalling. So, he gathered his waning confidence and took the first step. Then the second, third, fourth. It got easier as he descended, soft torchlight flickering against the stone and showing him the way as he ran his fingers across the walls. 

Wilbur’s foot suddenly hit rocky cobblestone. He was at the bottom of the spiral staircase now. He shivered as a sudden chill washed over him, causing him to pull his sweater tighter on his shoulders. He resisted the urge to look behind him and cover the back of his neck, instead moving forwards. 

_Pogtopia_. The ravine looked somewhat eerie; most of the lanterns and torches had been removed, making it look cold and uninviting. Some still remained, though, giving him enough to see by. He tentatively made his way across the wooden bridge he had forged such a long time ago. It surprisingly held, letting him cross to the final staircase. Buttons covered the walls, and he couldn’t resist running his hand over every single one he could reach.

As he descended, he passed the opening in the stone that Tommy had designated the “prime corner”. He chuckled softly, bending down slightly to run his fingers over the sign, brushing the dust off and reading the words before continuing on. He reached the very bottom and stopped in front of the stone hearth that had once filled the ravine with flickering light. He recalled burning his shoe once or twice in the flames. 

Wilbur looked around the spacious ravine, and more memories filled his mind. The day Tommy had brought Techno in, dragging him down the steps to greet Wilbur. His eyes drifted to a bright red block on that had been carved into the wall. Tommy stealing his diamonds to “decorate”, starting a whole argument between them. He couldn’t stop the smile that slowly took over his features. 

He observed the pit: a less inviting memory. Wilbur remembered clearly now the look that Tommy had on his face that day as he stepped in front of Tubbo. Now, in the darkness, alone, Wilbur could almost hear the shaky anger that had filled his voice. He had laughed at Tommy then, laughed in the face of his comical anger, but now in his solitude he only felt remorse. 

Wilbur moved on, past their chests and furnaces and into the potato farm. Just how many times he had wandered in to find Techno there, he did not know. So much time had slipped away since someone had tended to the farm that most of it was now hardened dirt, but Wilbur spotted some bright green leaves amid the brown under the dim light and smiled. If only he could bring Techno here now. Alas, that would only ever be a hopeless dream. 

The wall where Tommy’s ‘room’ had once been. _Now that was a nice memory_ , Wilbur thought, letting out a breathy laugh as he remembered the endless teasing Tommy endured after trapping himself between pistons. They would never leave him there, of course, but it was undeniably funny to mess with Tommy.

A cool breeze ghosted through Pogtopia yet again, this time more forceful. Looking dimly towards the faraway roof, he wondered how wind even got into the ravine in the first place. Perhaps it slipped in through the staircase, or maybe someone had mined past unknowingly, opening an obscure hole to the surface. 

He felt the unsettling feeling again, like he was somehow being watched. It didn’t make sense; no one ever visited Pogtopia’s ruins anymore. Once an important part of history, it was now a forgotten hallway of memories. Feeling regret and sorrow begin to seep into his bones, Wilbur tried to empty his brain of its thoughts, to no avail. 

The feeling got stronger. 

Sharp laughter rang out from behind him. _Tommy’s laugh_. Wilbur whipped around, expecting to see him there, but he was met with the same stone wall.

More laughter, echoing across the walls. Full of joy. _Tubbo_. 

Wilbur sank to the floor, throwing his head back against the wall before dropping it between his knees. His vision blurred with tears, tears he tried to stop, but they pushed past his weak defences and slipped down his face silently. Overwhelming remorse swallowed him whole. 

_What have I done?_

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written a full oneshot before, so I hope this was okay. Thanks for reading :)


End file.
